


Laboratory

by douchebagindisguise



Category: Penny Dreadful (TV)
Genre: Jekyllstein, M/M, Minific, a trial!, testing some character stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-07-07 13:06:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15908856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/douchebagindisguise/pseuds/douchebagindisguise
Summary: Victor is a helpless addict who surrenders himself to his friend's help.





	Laboratory

“Victor, please,” Lily pleaded, tears in her eyes. The sob story of her daughter didn’t phase Victor. He had his mind set on a singular goal. He looked her in the eyes and she grabbed his wrist that held the serum. He saw true fear in her eyes, but he didn’t care in the slightest. All Victor wanted at this moment was to relieve her pain and make her happy. He couldn’t do that now. Victor attempted to get out of Lily’s steel grip but failed and the syringe fell to the ground and shattered. Victor cursed and Lily wore a grin of pure psychopathy. “You will not fix me, Victor. There is nothing for your simple mind to fix,” she said, venom dripping from her teeth as he grabbed her by the arm and threw her into the chair. He held her by the neck and she clawed at his hand as he looked behind him for a split second to see Henry entering the room. Henry immediately noticed his friend’s struggles and ran over to help him secure Lily in the chair. Her wrists bound by leather, the strap around her head. She looked manic as her eyes darted around and her eyebrows furrowed angrily.

“Ready another syringe, Jekyll. She broke the last one,” Victor demanded and kept her stable as Henry filled another syringe behind him. He heard the machines working and soon enough, Victor held another glass syringe filled with that blue liquid that he relied on so heavily. He looked Lily in the eyes and saw nothing but fear. He hated it. He wanted to take all of the pain and misery and suffering away from her so she could finally be happy, with him. Victor pulled her eyelids open and she stared at the needle. She attempted to plead with him but he was blocking out the sound of her voice so he didn’t have to hear the words she spoke. It would hinder him, he knew it would. Victor shushed her and told her something along the lines of, “This won’t hurt.” He knew it would cause the most excruciating pain. He slid the needle into her pupil and he pushed down the plunger, inserting the liquid that would save her life. She screamed and cursed him as he pulled the needle out and placed it on the table next to the barber’s chair. She struggled against the restraints and let out the most vicious screams Victor had ever heard. 

Lily stopped for a split second and made eye contact with Victor. She looked sad and broken as if the pain had only increased. “Victor…” she whispered and he kneeled in front of her, looking into her eyes.

“Yes, Lily?” he answered, hoping with his whole entire morphine-drenched body that the serum had worked and that Lily was as fresh and pure as a newborn baby. That something as simple as a needle had cured her anger. Her eyes still held the same anger and fury that they had before and her stare was never wavering. He took the forehead restraint off and pushed her face from her face.

“Go fuck yourself,” she said as she was thrown into another fit of screams of pain and agony. Convulsing in the chair before going limp, her blonde hair fell in front of her eyes. Victor frowned, he had a bad feeling. He reached to check her pulse and when he felt nothing, his heart rate immediately picked up.

He lifted her head, her eyes held no life, not even the familiar synthetic life he had given her. He panicked, he started slapping her face, trying to get some kind of reaction out of her. “No. Lily, wake up,” he mumbled, his panic rising in his voice, he could feel Henry’s eyes on his back. Tears pricked his eyes. “No. Lily!” he yelled, frantically taking off her other leather restraints and catching her lifeless body in his arms, he fell back onto the stone floor and pulled her close. Her name was the only word that left his lips, as he held her already chilled corpse. Victor expected a woman reborn, clean and clear, pure and free of the toxicity of her past lives. He felt Henry’s hand on his shoulder.

“Let death have her once more, old man. She is no one’s to possess,” Henry said softly, kneeling down beside Victor. Henry pulled Victor into his chest and hushed his sobs. Victor rubbed away his tears aggressively as he leaned into Henry’s chest. Henry weaved his finger’s into Victor’s hair in an attempt to soothe him. Even in the chemist’s warm embrace, Victor felt so cold. The one thing he loved in this world was gone and by his own hand no less. He killed her once and brought her back as a newborn, but had lost her again due to his own selfishness. Victor pushed away from Henry’s chest and stared at him. The man that had held him in his manic state, the man that Victor praised for his work, the genius that he called Henry Jekyll. Henry looked upon Victor with eyes so soft and deep, “She is gone, you must allow it to happen,” he said solemnly. Victor shook his head and noticed that he was basically sitting in Henry’s lap at this point. Victor breathed and his face contorted in anguish and upset, he pushed back from Henry and stood up, not bothering to dust himself off. He felt his whole body tingling with withdrawal. He suddenly felt too warm in his vest, everything seemed to be closing in on him, it was too much.

“I must leave,” Victor said quickly and walked past Henry, who stood up and watched Victor act frantically. Henry sighed as Victor picked up his coat and medical bag. He found it curious that Victor didn’t put the coat on, he just held it in his arms.

“Victor, I hate that you must turn to the needle again. It’s hold on you is much too strong.” Victor scoffed and attempted to walk past Henry but his arm shot out and snatched Victor’s wrist. Victor tried to pull away but his attempts were futile. “Victor, you are not healthy. Let me help you,” Henry said, taking his friend’s hands. “Please, I hate to see you suffer in the quantities that you do. I can help, this is what I do,” Henry said, and it took every fiber of his body not to shout at Victor. He was keeping his cool in a sensitive moment, and he needed Victor to agreed to get some form of help. “I thought if you had a friend by your side, it would be much easier,” Victor looked down at his hands, Henry gripped them tightly. “When have I ever betrayed you? Abandoned you? You are my dearest friend, Victor, I want to do everything in my power to help,” Henry said, almost pleading with his friend.

Victor’s face looked troubled, “I’ll be fine on my own, thank you kindly,” he mumbled, looking up at Henry through his shabby fringe. Henry sighed and loosened his grip on Victor’s hands.

“You wouldn’t be one of my patients, Victor. You’d be a friend that I am gladly helping,” Henry took a step forward, they were much closer now. “We could work together, thee and me in a real lab,” Henry was inches away from Victor, and the smaller man’s blue eyes were piercing and almost crazed. The withdrawal was evident on his face and the way he held himself. “Can you trust me?” Henry asked softly and Victor pushed away and walked out. The heavy iron door slamming against the frame made Henry flinch. He glanced down at Lily’s pale body and sighed. He kneeled down and brushed his hand over her eyes, she deserved that much. “Such beauty, such wasted potential. You would’ve been a lovely bride to my Frankenstein,” he mumbled, shaking his head.

Victor all but ran back to his small tenement. He slammed the door behind him and slid down to the floor. He rubbed his face and felt his stomach rumbling, he hadn’t eaten anything in days. The scientist stood up and looked around, everything here reminded him of Lily. The tub, the electrics, the science behind the woman he loved. He threw his bag down and was immediately reminded of his desires as the sweats started again. He felt the rage building up in his throat and he let out a choked sob. The scientist picked up a flask, and slammed it to the ground, watching the glass shatter into pieces. His work was meaningless without her. She was the one thing he actually thought wouldn’t fail. He picked up another bottle. Glass littered the floor and most of his glasses and bottles were broken. He picked up a bottle filled with fluid he had since forgotten and attempted to throw it but ended up slamming it against the countertop, shards of glass stuck into his skin and he groaned. Victor watched the blood trickle out of every small wound in his palm, part of him didn’t mind the pain, but the doctor inside him said he needed to treat it before it got worse. He stole a glance at the medical bag that lay on the floor. Everything he needed was in there, gauze, alcohol, rags, forceps, tourniquet, bottle, syringe. Victor was able to ignore his urges long enough to soak one of the rags in alcohol and press it against his palm. He hissed in pain as the alcohol soaked into his skin. He wrapped it bandages, not bothering to remove the glass, it would happen at some point. His mind started to wander back to the box that he saw in the medical bag. He tried to forget it, forget the feeling of the needle under his skin, the drug coursing through his veins. He tried to forget it but every time he tried to distract himself he found his mind wandering. He walked over to the medical bag and stared at it. Victor pulled a small box out of the bag. He hesitated, remembering Henry, but continued to pull out the vial and syringe and wrapped the tourniquet around his arm. He filled the syringe with utmost precision, he had done this a million times. He sat down on the couch and tried to find a vein but they were all shot. The scientist placed the needle in between his fingers and sighed deeply as the liquid entered his body. Victor placed the vial and needle back into the box before slipping off the tourniquet. He fell back against the cushions of the loveseat and felt something wet and warm on his cheeks. He was crying. The entire day had been a mess, and he had lost all hope within him. As brilliant as Victor was, he knew he could not reanimate Lily once more. He eventually fell asleep, the buzz of morphine in his veins. 

When Victor awoke, the sun was setting, he must’ve slept for hours. He sat up and examined the bandages wrapped tightly around his palm. He frowned and ran his uninjured hand through his hair, it was getting too long. He rubbed his face, he hadn’t shaved in weeks. As he walked into the kitchen, he saw a single letter on the floor by his door. He picked it up to examine who it might be from, and as he expected it was from _Lord Henry Hyde_ , as it said in the chemist’s beautiful calligraphy. Victor felt a smile tugging on his lips. “A proud one, isn’t he?” he said to himself as he sliced open the letter. As Victor read over it, he leaned against the counter and immediately jumped back when the forgotten glass shards pierced his skin. The letter was a dinner invitation for that night at a familiar curry restaurant the two would eat at during their Cambridge days. Victor caught himself grinning at the lovely language and small quips in Henry’s letter, though it was a simple invitation, it still held a lot of heart. Victor assumed it was later in the day, and he hoped he hadn’t missed the time by sleeping the day away. By the time he found his pocket watch, he was grateful he hadn’t missed it but he had little time to clean himself up.

Henry sat, waiting patiently at the dimly lit restaurant that smelled of familiar spices for the man he cared for most. After half an hour, Henry decided that Victor wasn’t attending and he stood to leave before the doors burst open and Victor stood, out of breath. Henry sat back down as Victor noticed him and came to sit with him. Henry laughed softly, “I didn’t think you were coming, old boy,” he said, taking a sip of the wine he ordered for the both of them.

Victor smiled weakly. “I woke up late, and I wanted to make myself presentable,” he said and Henry nodded.

“Have you taken some thought to consider what I’ve said?” Henry asked and Victor nodded. “Tell me your thoughts, I want to know how you feel,” Henry said, putting his hands together on top of the table. Victor shifted in his seat and stared at Henry’s hands.

“I… believe I require some help. I would appreciate it more if it was a friend who was to…” Victor paused and glanced up into Henry’s eyes with a nervous smile. “Care for me,” he said, his voice lowering in pitch. Henry raised an eyebrow and cracked a grin.

Henry nodded. “Let me ask you this. Can you trust me?” Henry said and maintained eye contact with Victor’s baby blues. He watched Victor swallow thickly and his eyes flickered to examine every inch of Henry’s face. Henry knew what Victor’s answer would be, even if it took him months, though Henry only hoped Victor would last that long. He wasn’t sure how much control Victor had to not overdose on accident. Just the thought of losing Victor made Henry nauseous, he hoped the other man didn’t see the falter in his smile.

Victor took a deep breath and nodded, placing his hands on top of Henry’s. “I will trust you, Henry. You have trusted me in the past, and now it’s time to return the favor,” Victor said and Henry looked confused. Victor continued with a smile. “Remember back in our Cambridge days, when you would come home late, tiptoeing around the creaking floorboards, trying not to wake me up? I was usually awake, despite anything, and you would come home with cuts and bruises. You trusted me to clean you up, to suture your cuts and tend to your bruises,” Victor smiled warmly in remembrance. “You always got into fights because you never minded your temper. They always hated you for your intelligence. They were appalled that someone that they thought less of was so much better than them. A kinder person, a higher IQ, in line for a heavy inheritance that those boys could only dream of,” Victor looked up, his eyes glassy and his smile wide. “You haven’t changed in the slightest, Henry, but somehow it’s not a bad thing,” he mused and Henry was surprised by his words, watching Victor wipe his eyes with a low chuckle. Henry cleared his throat and blinked at his friend, who was filling his glass with dark wine. Henry had to push away the quip that formed in his mind. _(“You don’t drink spirits, you say?”)_ Instead, he flagged a waitress and ordered two meals for them. Victor hoped to get away from the previous topic. 

“Did you think Lily your soulmate?” Henry suddenly asked, and Victor was taken aback. How Henry could ask something like that, Victor couldn’t say. He was prodding in a wound that was much too fresh, a wound that only bled for a day and no more. Victor swirled the red wine in his glass and sighed.

“I wouldn’t assume so. She would’ve lived on past my death and created more chaos than she already had. She was my daughter, a creation, not a lover,” Victor said and felt something almost like a weight lifted from his shoulders. Had he finally realized how chaotic and evil Lily truly was?

“She was a wild soul, cannot be tamed in life, afterlife or even death,” Henry said, shaking his head, and Victor could not detect any specific emotion. “Have you had your eye on any woman? Another possible spark to tame?” he hummed and Victor thought for a moment. He knew that how he answered would be risky, no matter how he phrased it. Victor polished off the rest of his glass and refilled it almost immediately.

“There’s been someone,” he began, and one of Henry’s eyebrows shot up. “A certain someone that I’ve known for quite some time now, could say we’ve had experiences together before. I’ve gone through a lot with this person and it seems only fitting. Although, I’m unsure if my feelings are reciprocated,” Victor said, ending his thought with a drink. He watched Henry lean forward in his seat.

“You never thought to ask this special person?” Henry asked and Victor shook his head. “Well, that’s only necessary when finding yourself a suitable wife,” Henry said and raised his eyebrows, although his eyes held no particular interest in the conversation. As they finished their meals, Henry called on the waitress to retrieve their plates.

Victor’s mind was buzzing at this point, he wasn’t quite sure of the exact wording of his previous statement, and his next one would be said before he could truly think it over. “Who said I wanted a wife?” Victor said with a laugh. Henry stared at Victor with a look of amusement on his face. Victor let out a shaky breath and finished off his glass of wine. He reached for the bottle but a hand snatched his wrist.

“What do you mean by that, Victor?” Henry’s voice was cold and demanding, and Victor found himself afraid of the man he thought he knew so well. This was a different side of Henry, a side Victor had never seen. Frankenstein attempted to tug his hand away but Henry had a steel grip, he wasn’t getting away without answering the question.

“I mean,” Victor swallowed, visibly startled. “Maybe I’d prefer someone of a different kind,” he said quietly. He maintained eye contact with Henry’s deep brown eyes that seemed to bore into his very soul.

“Perhaps,” Henry paused, and for a moment, Victor saw his horrible, crooked smile. “… a husband?” he asked and Victor nodded slowly. He felt like a prey in the sights of a great predator, one wrong move and it was all over. Henry let go of his friend’s wrist, content with the answer he supplied. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said with a small smile on his lips. Henry stood up and Victor attempted to follow but stumbled and caught himself on the table. Henry chuckled softly and offered his arm to Victor. He eyed the gesture but took it anyways. The two walked out of the restaurant and there was already a carriage waiting for them outside. Henry turned to Victor with a smile. “Care to join me for a drink at my estate?” he asked and Victor was hesitant. “Come on, old boy,” he urged softly. Victor felt a wave of unease wash over him as he stepped into the carriage after Henry.

The ride back to the estate was long and filled with mindless chatter. Victor could feel his skin itching. He was keenly aware of the way their knees bumped with the carriage and the warmth radiating from Henry. Their shoulders were pressed tightly together despite the empty seat across from them. Victor tried to keep the conversation going, answering the questions Henry asked. The ride seemed so much longer than it truly was. The driver arrived at their stop and Henry thanked the man and paid him generously as the large estate emerged in front of them. Victor felt minuscule in front of the large oak doors. Victor had seen it a thousand times and it never failed to make Victor’s heart skip a beat. Henry put a hand on the small of Victor’s back and guided him into the house. It was decorated very elegantly, beautiful red carpeting and big windows that shined with cloud covered light, dark wood, and ivory molding. Victor felt the tension in his shoulders release as he stepped in and smelled the musty air. Henry guided him into a library that had an air of withering books. Victor sat on a loveseat in front of a small coffee table with a tray settled on top. A large, seemingly unopened bottle of whiskey sat upon the tray with short glasses. Henry sat beside him and filled the two glasses before handing one to Victor. Victor was so in awe of how gorgeous the estate was that he hadn’t quite felt the cool glass in his hands.

“It’s beautiful, Henry,” he said, his voice just above a whisper. The bookshelves looked to carry hundreds upon thousands of books. Henry smiled behind his cup and nodded. “It suits you,” he added.

“I’m glad you think so, dearest,” Henry hummed, he had an aura of confidence that Victor had not seen since their Cambridge days. It certainly made Victor feel more at ease. Henry downed the rest of his drink and cleared his throat. “I know you’ve been eager to see my lab, would you like to take a look?” he asked and Victor nodded eagerly, setting his untouched glass on the table. Henry grinned and picked up the whiskey bottle and made a motion for Victor to follow. 

They left the library and walked in relative silence down the winding halls to a large iron door. Henry unlocked the door with a key and opened it wide to reveal a beautifully clean white lab. It shined with unuse. Empty bottles and flasks were laid out, waiting to be filled with serums and solutions. Victor walked in and let out a shocked chuckle. “This is bloody fantastic,” Victor said, still in awe of it all. The two scientists walked around. There was no more barber’s chair, but now a real surgeon’s table. It was shining and new and Victor loved it. It was so different than his dirty, rusty disorganized lab at home. He walked around, running the tips of his fingertips over the glass bottles and flasks. Victor could only dream of a lab as gorgeously clean and modern as this. “You’re a lucky man, Henry,” Victor said, turning to Henry, who wore a content smile on his face.

“It’s now yours as well, Victor. For the time being. You’d look like you belong here, sleeves rolled up, scribbling notes in a journal nearby,” Henry said, inching subtly closer. Victor shook his head.

“This is much too nice for me, I’m suited better for my rusty old tenement,” Victor said, only half joking. He glanced at Henry and saw that smile he recognized from their youth again. Victor loved that smile, it made him look younger, and it reminded him of their years at Cambridge. Spending the night together, sharing the hookah and different ideas of science. Henry tucked a lock of hair behind his ear and pushed himself onto the surgeon’s table. His long legs dangled off the side, only barely brushing the linoleum. He unscrewed the cap of the whiskey bottle and took a swig before offering it to Victor. Victor laughed and took it, taking a long drink. He wiped his mouth and allowed himself to take a well-needed breath. Henry’s eyes shined with youth and Victor felt his gut twist. Odd. 

The two sat in the sterility of the laboratory and passed the bottle between them until it was empty. Victor was swaying and Henry seemed utterly unaffected. Henry chuckled at the sight, Victor with half-lidded eyes and a small smile on his lips. “You’ve had quite a lot to drink, I’d suggest you stay here for the night. I’ll allow you your rest in the morning as well, and if not…” he paused, smiling. “My door is always open.” With that, he took the empty bottle and disappeared through the iron door.

As Henry left the lab, Victor allowed a maid with long, pretty red hair guided him to a room. He thanked her before entering the room and seeing clothes on the bed. He scoffed at Henry’s gross generosity and found himself looking for his medicine bag. In the mindset of an addict, he stumbled upon a bottle of wine in a cabinet. He let out a sigh and opened it, taking a swig straight from the bottle. He walked around the room, his boots hitting the floor much louder than he anticipated but frankly, he didn’t notice. He continued to mumble to himself about lost loves, his drunken haze worsening as he drank more. The alcohol could only dull the tremors so much, he was already sweating. Victor had shed his coat and vest, walking around the room with his shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest and his belt buckle hanging loosely from his trousers. He had already spilled red wine on the white shirt he wore but he was much too drunk to care. The minutes had gone by so fast, Victor wasn’t even slightly aware of the time, he could’ve guessed he was awake into the wee hours of the morning. He heard a soft knock on the door as he finished the last of the bottle. He was warm with intoxication, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to open the door. Victor walked, or stumbled, towards the door. He opened it and saw Henry, shirtless, wearing only his soft trousers, he wore an almost blank expression if it weren’t for the exhaustion prevalent in the bags under his eyes.

“Are you having trouble sleeping?” Henry asked and looked Victor up and down, assessing his current state. Victor felt no shame, Henry had seen him in worse conditions. Henry spotted the empty bottle at Victor’s side and scoffed. “Took to that quite quickly, I see,” Henry said softly and reached for the bottle, Victor instinctively pulled it back. Henry rolled his eyes, “It’s empty, Victor.” It was only then that Henry noticed the heavy bandaging on Victor’s hand. “What did you do to yourself?” Henry asked and Victor surrendered his hand and the bottle.

“Just a cut,” Victor slurred and Henry glared at him, leading him to the bed. The two sat down and Henry started to unravel the blood-soaked bandages to reveal millions of tiny, dagger-like shards of glass in his hand. Victor could tell Henry knew he was lying, might as well get this over with. “I smashed a bottle. Many bottles, flasks,” Victor said, shaking his head. If Henry wasn’t holding his hand steady, he was sure the other man would see how heavily his hands were shaking. Henry frowned.

“Now, why would you do that?” he asked, a hint of curiosity in his voice. Victor looked down as Henry dropped the hand and got up to retrieve a medicinal kit from the small bathroom. Henry came back and saw the look on Victor’s face. “Ah, your water Lily, I should’ve guessed,” he said as he used a pair of forceps to pick out the tiny shards of glass. Victor winced and Henry shook his head slightly. “When you do things like this, you can’t leave them be. You must tend to the wound before it gets worse,” Henry’s face immediately softened and he smiled that familiar Cambridge smile. “That would apply to physical and mental wounds as well,” he hummed and looked at Victor. Henry cleaned the wounds thoroughly before wrapping clean bandages around his hand and wrist. “Let the healing begin,” he said and pressed a kiss to Victor’s palm. Victor looked up into Henry’s tired eyes, and in his drunken stupor, felt the extreme urge to kiss him at that moment. 

“I’m sorry to wake you,” Victor said, his words slurred together and he felt warm. His whole body tingled with intoxication, he wasn’t sure the exact amount of alcohol he consumed but it must’ve been close to two bottles. “I got carried away with my consumption this evening,” Victor breathed as Henry brought his eyes up to stare at Victor. Everything seemed too much in that moment, but Victor was doing nothing to move away. Their faces were mere centimeters apart, and Victor could hear his heartbeat in his ears. He could smell the sickly sweet cologne that Henry always wore, he smelled like a candy shop drenched in tobacco and whiskey.

“You said you had a special someone in mind?” Henry asked, reaching up to place a hand on the side of Victor’s neck. Victor nodded slowly, unintentionally leaning into Henry’s gentle touch. His heart was beating erratically and Henry let out a breathy laugh. “Might I take a guess as to who that person might be?” Henry asked playfully, his other hand moving to settle on Victor’s hip. Victor had no words, he just nodded mutely. “You’ve known this person for years, and the two of you have shared intimacies together,” Henry continued and Victor leaned back, with the other man almost on top of him. “You’ve gone through a lot with this person but you’re unsure if the feelings are reciprocated, isn’t that right?” 

Victor swallowed. “Yes, you’d be correct,” he managed to get out, and Henry smiled. Victor was frightened and excited simultaneously. Henry was such an intense person, despite how he acted at times.

Henry leaned in closer and Victor’s head hit the undisturbed bed. “What if I told you that your feelings were mutual?” Henry asked and his eyes stole a glance at Victor’s parted lips.

“How would you do that?” Victor asked in a hushed tone as if what they were doing was dangerous. And to some extent, it was extremely dangerous, to Victor’s work and Henry’s title. Victor tried to shake away how risky his behavior was. 

Henry smiled, their lips barely brushing. “Like this,” he said and closed the space between them. Victor melted into the kiss, it was sweet, and Henry tasted like the warm whiskey they shared in the lab. It was slow and chaste and Victor savored every moment of it. When they pulled away it had seemed like a millennium had passed with just the two of them, when it only yielded to be a few seconds. Victor stared into Henry’s eyes and chuckled.

“You might have to reanimate me if you keep taking my breath away like this, old boy,” Victor hummed and ran his hands through Henry’s silky black hair. Henry laughed quietly and ran his hands down Victor’s sides.

“I can, now that we share a lab, thus sharing our combined genius,” Henry said and brought his lips to Victor’s neck, peppering soft kisses along his jaw and down his neck to his exposed collarbones. 

“Thee and me, in a lab, a real lab,” Victor said, repeating what Henry had said earlier, and he laughed.

“You said it just perfectly, dearest.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Thank you so much for reading this little minific I wrote about my two favorite scientists. This is a test to see how well I can write these two because there isn't much to read. If you enjoyed this, please let me know! I have an idea of a longer fic and I want to see how this is perceived so I can continue to write a longer version. Kudos and criticism is much appreciated.
> 
> Until Next Time,  
> Adrian


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